


Desperate

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, Gags, Hair-pulling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not in the mood for any of Sam's shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> Basically shameless smut. Never written anything like this before so any feedback would be appreciated. 
> 
> The characters aren't mine but all the mistakes are.

The door is barely shut behind them when the word rings out, clear and precise. 

"Knees."

"What?"

"Get on your knees, Sam."

Dean's tone brooks no argument, but Sam still hesitates. Clearly, Dean's not in the mood for it tonight because a heavy hand settles at the back of Sam's neck and pushes him down. Just for a second, he fights, before his knees give out and he goes down. Vaguely, he registers that he'll have bruises in the morning, but that's really a secondary concern. All of his attention is focused on the man behind him; the man that's out of sight but definitely not out of mind. 

He doesn't dare turn when he hears one of the duffle bags being opened, though he's definitely curious. When Dean gets like this, there's nothing he can do but hold on and enjoy the ride and, really, he wouldn't have it any other way. Dean's a force of nature, not to be reckoned with. 

Sam's pulled from his thoughts when a hand touches the back of his neck, grounding him. Slowly, Dean circles him, comes into view. Sam looks up, trying to see what Dean's got in his other hand but his brother's fingers tangle in his hair and force his head back down. 

"What have I told you about keeping your eyes on the ground, Sammy?" His voice is almost teasing, but there's a definite edge to it. 

Sam swallows, then nods. "Sorry," he manages, voice a little hoarse already. 

Dean's hand turns gentle again, stroking through his hair now that he's satisfied that Sam will remember himself. Slowly, his hand trails down the side of his face, from his temple to the corner of his lips. He taps, once, and the silent instruction is clear. Sam parts his lips, and Dean chuckles. 

"Gotta do better than that," he says softly, finger still resting against Sam's cheek. He makes a soft noise of approval as Sam opens his mouth wider, and takes his hand away. For several seconds, he peers down at Sam, then circles back around behind him. 

Feet planted either side of Sam's legs, he trails a finger down the back of his neck and then moves quick as lightening. One hand presses against Sam's forehead, pulling his head up and bracing it against his groin, giving Sam no means of escape. The other slips a gag between his lips and holds it there for a second, locking eyes with his brother as an almost predatory smile tugs his lips. Any protest that Sam could have made was cut off by the rubber ball as Dean buckles it fast at the back of his head.

"Better," Dean nods, stepping back and pushing Sam's head forward again. 

Sam holds himself entirely still as he hears Dean crossing the room once again, rummaging in the duffle. 

"Strip. Then I want you back on your knees." 

From the sound of Dean's voice, Sam can tell that he's facing away from him but, even so, he doesn't try and remove the gag. He strips quickly, leaves his clothes in a messy pile at the foot of the bed. Not once does he look over at Dean, who's trying to decide the game plan for the night. 

Within minutes, Sam's back on his knees, naked and half-hard. He clasps his hands behind his back and bows his head once more, earning a sound of satisfaction from Dean. His brother moves like a cat, he should have learnt that by now. He shouldn't be surprised when a hand trails across his bare shoulder, or when cold, metal handcuffs dig into his wrists. They're just this side of too tight, a testament to how well Dean knows him and how far he can be pushed. 

He glances up when Dean's feet - still in shoes, he notices - come into view, but his head is quickly pushed back down and Dean grips his hair tight in warning.

"Don't push me, Sam." Dean's voice is soft, silk and danger and Sam nods as best as he can. "Good boy." The grip in his hair goes, and Sam hears Dean huff a soft chuckle. Whatever it is that's amused him is lost on Sam, and he can't ask about it so he lets it go. 

The silence stretches on, and Sam shifts uncomfortably on his knees. He wants to know what Dean's waiting for, why he's drawing it out, but before he can make any indication of his impatience, Dean's behind him again, wrapping a blindfold around his eyes. He ties it tightly, and Sam can see nothing more than a thin sliver of light. 

"Perfect. Get up and bend over the bed," Dean instructs, wrapping an arm around Sam's waist, helping him up and over to the bed. He lets go when Sam's knees brush the mattress, and waits until his brother is settled, cheek pressed to the duvet and legs spread. 

"Such a slut for it," he chuckles. This time, it's clear what's coming because Sam hears the snap of the bottle opening. He still jerks when he feels a finger pressing against him, but Dean grabs his hip and holds him in place as he pushes his finger in. Dean's not gentle, knows Sam can take it, and pushes another finger in almost immediately. He scissors them, trading his grip on Sam's hip for a tight grip on the back of his neck, pressing him down against the mattress as he works three fingers into his brother. 

There's burn, of course there is, but Sam's used to this. He prefers it like this, rough stretch and drag, because he's not a girl and he can take it. His breath hitches when Dean brushes against his prostate, but then the touch is gone and so are Dean's fingers. A small whine tickles the back of his throat and Dean chuckles again.

"Like I said, little slut," he says fondly, pulling Sam's hips back so he's only half-supported by the bed. He's pleased to find that Sam's fully hard now, and there's a small wet patch on the duvet where he'd been resting. Though Dean's mood seems to have improved considerably, he's still not going to go easy on Sam.

He steps up between his brother's legs, rutting against him none too gently. The denim's rough, uncomfortable, but Sam ruts back anyway. Precome beads at the tip, and Dean reaches around and runs just the tip of his index finger over the head of Sam's cock. A shiver runs down Sam's spine and he falls still, body practically vibrating in desperation for something more tangible. 

Dean takes pity and closes his hand around him, strokes him once, twice, before releasing him abruptly just as Sam picked up his rhythm, started to thrust in time. They're both entirely still for several seconds before Dean's moving again, snapping a cock ring closed around the base of Sam's erection. He groans, jolts back, and falls entirely still when Dean's hand lands smartly against his thigh. It stings, a red mark quickly appears, and Dean steps back. 

Again, there's silence. Dean's still, watching Sam, and Sam's still, trying to locate Dean. The elder Winchester smirks to himself, silently smearing lube up and down one of their favourite toys. For nearly a full five minutes, he leaves Sam hanging, before he leans forward and slides the toy home in one, slick movement. Sam gasps, muscle in his cheek twitching at the sudden, unexpected fullness. His muscles clench around the toy, resisting the intrusion, but it happened too quickly and now it's seated firmly inside him. 

He groans, digging his nails into his palm in frustration. On more than one occasion, just the sensation of being full like this was enough to send him over the edge and he just knows that, without the cock ring, he would have come then and there like a horny teen. And he knows that Dean knows it, too. 

Dean wants Sam writhing and desperate for it first, though, and he shows no mercy as he toys with a little remote in his hand. With a shrug, he flicks it up to full power straight away, relishing the little noise that Sam makes in the back of his throat. He watches Sam humping the bed, perhaps not even aware that he's doing it. It doesn't provide any relief, though, and it's maddening. 

Dean loves watching Sam like this, pink-cheeked and sweating, completely at his mercy. It's perhaps his second favourite thing in the world, above pie and the Impala, but definitely not above cuddling with Sam in the after-glow. Not that he'd ever admit that. 

He reaches out and brushes his thumb over Sam's cheekbone, before throwing the remote on the bed and stepping up behind his brother. Dean undoes his jeans, pushed them and his boxers down to mid-thigh with a small sigh of relief as his cock springs free. He wraps one hand around himself and the other around the vibrator, angling it and pressing it against Sam's prostate as he begins stroking himself lazily, slicking himself up. The muffled moan that Sam makes is almost enough to send him over the edge then and there, and he loses all self-control that he's had up until this moment. He pulls the toy free, letting it fall to the floor still buzzing. With one move, he lines himself up and pushes in, grabbing Sam's hips with both hands and yanking him back. 

The pace is hard and fast, and Sam can do nothing but let Dean manhandle him as if he weighs nothing. It takes all of half a minute before Dean's coming, slumping over his brother and pressing his forehead between his shoulder blades as he rolls his hips and rides out the pleasure. 

It takes several minutes before he's coherent again, and he pulls out with a soft groan. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up, eyes drifting over his brother. Sam's shivering, hole clenching, and Dean takes a moment to just look. He plays his thumb around his rim, catching his come and pushing it back in as he catches his breath. 

Without letting Sam in on his plan, he reaches for the vibrator and pushes it back in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Sam's neck when he whimpers. 

"S'okay, baby boy. I'll make you feel real good eventually," he promises, chuckling as he angles the vibrator and Sam arches desperately, hands twisting in the cuffs. "Not done with you yet."


End file.
